


it is warmth and rest only that I need

by piperholmes



Category: Anne with an E (TV)
Genre: Comfort, F/M, Friendship, Growing Attraction, Hurt, baby Delphine, late night comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-12 19:36:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/piperholmes/pseuds/piperholmes
Summary: When Bash and Gilbert struggle to know how best to help a fussing, unhappy baby Delphine, they turn to Anne for help and relief.





	it is warmth and rest only that I need

**Author's Note:**

> Well, I have no idea how this turned out. It just kept growing and growing. I hope it’s not too garbage. It’s just an idea that’s been playing in my head since Sunday’s heartbreaking episode. Unbeta’d

Anne jerked awake as the unrelenting knocking on the door pierced her dreams. Her heart pounding, she threw back the covers and made her way into the dark hallway. Her wide eyes met Matthew’s as he moved to the stairs, edging his way around the corner to try and get a glimpse at who would disturb their quiet home at such an hour. 

Marilla soon yanked open her door with a huff, much less willing to endure the mystery surrounding the night’s intruder, and was shrewdly shooing Matthew down the stairs. She threw Anna a quick, “stay there” look, which Anne ignored, too curious to know what had drawn a thief of slumber to their home. 

The trio carefully made their way down the stairs and towards the door, only pausing long enough for Matthew to grab a fire poker.

“Good heaven’s Matthew, what murderer do you know who’d announce his presence with such a racket?” Marilla scolded, though Anne suspected the older woman appreciated her brother’s forethought.

Anne would have too if her eyes hadn’t immediately made out the silhouette in the moonlight.

“Gilbert?” 

At her question the siblings Cuthbert squinted, before Marilla dashed to yank open the door. “Why, it is Gilbert Blythe.”

Gilbert’s face was hard to make out in the darkness but there was enough silvery light to show the panic in his dark eyes.

“I’m so sorry Miss Marilla, I know the hour is late, but I’ve come for Anne, if she’ll come.”

“Anne?” Marilla parroted sharply.

“It’s Delphine. She won’t stop crying and she refuses to eat anything. Bash and I don’t know what’s wrong,” he rambled off, his voice high and breathless. “We don’t know what to do. I know Anne has some experience. The doctor in town still refuses to help and I...we don’t know what to do.”

His eyes met hers in desperate supplication, and Anne didn’t hesitate. She ran to the door, sliding her naked feet into her pair of mud boots and grabbed one of Marilla’s shawls from a hook, wrapping it around her night dress.

For her part Marilla’s own ire at being awoken had fled with Gilbert’s words. Her heart flying into a panic at the thought of that sweet baby taking ill.

“Matthew, get the wagon,” she ordered.

“There’s no need,” Gilbert said. “I’ve brought my horse.”

Matthew sheepishly dropped the poker and followed Anne and Gilbert down the steps. Gilbert climbed up into the saddle before sliding back enough to leave space for Matthew to hand Anne up. Once she was seated sideways, wedged between him and the saddle horn, and Gilbert was sure she was safely situated, he asked, “Ready?”

At her nod, Gilbert kicked the horse into motion, Marilla’s calls of well-wishes and worried edicts lost in the wind. The aged woman hesitated, wracked with the desire to follow and be of help but in truth she knew very little of babies beyond what she’d picked up from Mary. And, at least in this, Anne was the more experienced, she would know how best to help. 

“Back inside Matthew,” she called, not waiting to see if her brother followed. 

Knowing sleep would not come as she worried for her makeshift family, Marilla began to set a fire in the stove and prayed for the Lord’s watchful care over the ones she loved.

****  
Anne sat rigidly upright as she fought the instinct to pester Gilbert with questions. As they galloped along, the wind whipping around them, cooling some of the June heat, it made conversation difficult. And one glance at Gilbert was enough for her to see his tightly clenched jaw as he did his best to navigate the road in the dark. He wouldn’t thank her for distracting him.

In the three months since Mary’s death her relationship with Gilbert had changed—into what, she wasn’t sure—but it felt like they had become rooted somehow, like a tree grown round a fence. They were just suddenly a part of each other. She knew his sadness and he knew her fears. She knew his joy and he knew her dreams. It wasn’t something they talked about or openly acknowledged in any way. It just was.

Diana had tried to ask her about it, and Ruby had been unable to hide her confusion over Anne and Gilbert’s new closeness, but Anne had managed to put them both off. She didn’t know. She didn’t know if she wanted to know yet. They were still so raw with grief. Maybe it was just a way to survive. 

Anne’s thoughts were diverted as they rode up to the Blythe-Lacroix homestead. Gilbert slowed the horse to a stop and Delly’s cries could be heard from within. Anne moved to slide down but Gilbert stopped her with a hand.

“Hold on,” he said, swinging himself off the horse before reaching up for her.

She pressed her lips together before snapping, “I can get off a horse Gilbert.”

“Marilla would have my hide if you fell and broke your ankle in the dark.” He moved his hands, waving her forward.

With a huff she obediently fell into his grasp, his strong arms slowing her descend as his fingers dug into her hips. She wanted to argue, to rail at him for treating her like a child, but Delly’s pitiful cries took precedents. And it was easier to focus on that than acknowledge the shiver that ran through her as his warm hands left her body after lingering a little longer than perhaps necessary to ensure she was firmly on the ground.

“I’ll tie up the horse,” he said, making quick work of the rope. “I’ll wait to unhitch him until I know whether I need to ride into town and drag that doctor here or not.”

Anne couldn’t begrudge him the cold tone of voice or the pinched, tight look in his eyes. It was disgraceful for the Lacroix family to be treated with so little humanity by a man sworn to care and heal. She merely nodded her response and made her way into the house.

She was immediately hit with a wave of heat. It was a sticky, frustrated kind of heat that worked its way into a person’s state of being. Bash stood in the middle of the room, bouncing a wailing, red Delphine. His face a mixture of concern and frustration.

“Anne Shirley-Cuthbert, you’re a sight,” he breathed, a frantic, weary look etched in the lines around his eyes. “Thank you for coming to help. I’m sorry to have pulled you from your bed—“

“It’s not a problem,” she interrupted him, stepping closer, taking the baby into her arms. She heard Gilbert step into the house, but her focus was on the squalling child. She sat down, unwrapped the blanket, felt for a fever. There was none. She checked Delly’s nappy: dry and no sign of rash. 

“How long has she been like this?”

“The last two nights,” Bash answered.

“You haven’t noticed her pulling on her ear or anything like that?” She asked.

Bash and Gilbert looked at each other, both frowning and shaking their heads no.

“You’re thinking eat infection?” Gilbert asked.

Anne shrugged. “She’s not really showing any of the symptoms.”

Anne gently ran a finger against the baby’s gums and nearly laughed with relief—though she swallowed the impulse as she took in the haggard faces of the two men standing opposite. 

“I think...” she waited, giving Delly a chance to bite down, her cries beginning to slow as she chewed Anne’s finger, confirming her suspicions. “It seems she’s teething.”

“Teething?” Bash echoed, a hint of disbelief in his voice. “All that wailing for some teeth?”

Anne looked at Gilbert who seemed a bit diffident at her discovery. 

“Teeth coming through can sometimes hurt quite a bit,” she offered, her eyes still on Gilbert.

With a frustrated sigh, he pushed a hand through his wild curls, before whispering, “Teething. Why didn’t I consider that?”

“Have you helped a lot of teething babies?” Anne asked dryly, probably enjoying his scowling expression a bit more that she should—a little revenge for insisting he help her from the horse. Except his scowl grew contrite and tired, and Anne felt a bit of guilt pricking at her for her pettiness. 

“Truly Gilbert, you weren’t to know. Babies don’t exactly announce what the problem is, and it just takes some practice,” she offered gently. “Now will you please wash your hands and then find me a clean rag and soak it in as cold of water as you have?”

Gilbert merely nodded and set about following instructions. 

“Bash, come here.”

The young father stepped over, and Anne took his hand and pressed a finger against the baby’s reddened gums. “Do you feel the tooth just below?”

Bash’s eyes widened and he nodded. “Well, look at that, my little princess is growing teeth.”

Anne laughed, even as Delphine grew tired of chewing on her father’s finger and began fussing again. Bash immediately jumped back, a look of confused betrayal on his face, as if the baby should now be perfectly happy. Anne nearly laughed again, but fought the reaction. 

“I think some fresh air would help, it’s quite stuffy in here,” she prompted kindly.

Grateful for something to do, Bash set about opening some windows to let in the cooler night air. Anne nearly moaned as her heated skin met some relief—a feeling of taking a deep breath after some of the anxiety in the room had been swept out with the breeze.

“We weren’t sure if we should keep her warm. Or if...I don’t really know what we thought. I guess I’m not much of a father,” Bash said, a quiet sadness in his voice. “Poor little thing, stuck with me...who doesn’t have a clue what he is doing.”

“Oh Bash,” Anne pressed, unable to bear the loss and pain radiating from him. “No, none of that is true. Trust me, I’ve seen bad fathers and you definitely do not qualify.”

Bash’s expression grew confused.

“When I was lent out to families, I saw plenty of fathers who’d rather not be bothered with children. I can’t think of a single time when I saw a father walk the floor with a crying baby. Some fathers would actually get quite cruel and mean when a baby wouldn’t stop fussing,” Anne offered by way of explanation. “Delphine is quite lucky to have a father who loves her like you do. A father who puts her needs above his own, who cries when she cries.”

Bash eyed her for a moment, seeming at a loss how to respond, but Gilbert stepped into the room and came to kneel next to where Anne sat with the baby in her lap. She again repeated with Gilbert what she’d done with Bash. She took his hand in hers, folding down all the finger save for one. She could feel the damp of his skin from washing, and knew Delly would appreciate the coolness of his touch. Then carefully she pressed his finger against the baby’s gum. Gilbert’s eye widened, his brow flying up. 

“I can really feel it,” he said a little louder than the early hour warranted, but Anne could only laugh.

As expected, Delly renewed her sucking, clamping her irritated gums down on Gilbert’s finger. The pair sat a moment, her hand still wrapped around his, watching the small girl.

“You have the rag?” Anne finally asked, helping Gilbert work his fingers out of the baby’s grip. 

He nodded and made to hand the cool, damp rag to her, but her hand came up as a sign to wait. She then made quick work of stripping Delly down to her nappy before extending her hand for the rag. 

Gilbert and Bash could only watch as Delphine eagerly accepted the rag, sucking and gnawing contentedly, her tears now no more than dried tracks upon her cheeks. 

“When did she last feed?”

“She only took about half a bottle several hours ago,” Bash answered.

Anne nodded. “The cold rag should help smooth some of the ache. Will one of you prepare a bottle?”

Gilbert and Bash both made to answer her request before the younger man shooed the tired father. “You need to watch what Anne is doing,” Gilbert reasoned. 

As Gilbert set to preparing a bottle, Bash asked Anne questions about teething babies, which Anne did her best to answer.

“Camomile can sometimes help and I’d also recommend a bit of bread dipped in olive oil. It can give her something to chew on, but be sure you keep an eye on her. You don’t want her to choke,” Anne explained. “Some mothers swear by Mrs. Winslow’s Soothing Syrup, but I’ve known more than one baby to get an upset stomach after. Mrs. Hammond used to rub a little whiskey on the gums, but that was only after Mr. Hammond started—“ she broke off abruptly, turning to Gilbert. “How’s the bottle coming?”

“Still a little too hot,” came his reply.

“I should write all this down,” Bash said suddenly, rising to get paper and a pencil. 

In the quiet, Anne cooed down at the baby, earning a wet, sloppy grin. She could hear Gilbert behind her, hear him thinking, wondering. 

“Anne—“ he started softly.

“Her rag is getting warm,” she said bluntly, scooping Delly up and standing. 

Gilbert was quick to move. “I’ll fetch some more water from the pump.”

He was out the door before Anne could respond and returned quickly with a small bucket of cold water. Anne dipped the cloth and rung it out with one hand, still balancing the baby against her chest.

“Thank you,” she said. “You could probably put the bottle in the water if it’s still too warm. Cool it faster.”

Gilbert followed her suggestion as Bash returned, ready to write down everything Anne had to impart. The bottle was soon ready and Anne replaced the rag with the rubbery nipple against Delly’s gums. The pain now soothed, the baby sucked greedily. Gilbert and Bash nearly collapsed with relief.

It was quiet.

It was cool.

Everything was alright.

“You’re a miracle worker Anne Shirley-Cuthbert,” Bash whispered as Delphine’s eyes began to droop, her lips slowing their pull on the bottle, as Anne gently swayed the pair back and forth.

She just smiled, a gentle shake to her head. “It’s nothing anyone else couldn’t do with a little practice.”

Bash gave his own shake of the head. “I don’t think so. It’s a mother’s heart you got. That’s not a gift for just anyone.”

Anne felt her neck grow warm and knew her fair skin was betraying her embarrassment. She was grateful that Delphine had drifted off, her little lips loosing their grip on the bottle, a dribble of milk winding its way from her mouth. She set about wiping the baby down, drying her off with the corner of the blanket, before Anne lightly swaddled her, and, after a few more minutes of easy rocking, when she felt Delly’s body grow heavy and warm in her arm, she turned to Bash.

“Would you like me to stay with her?”

The men hesitated.

“It’s only a few hours until dawn,” Anne said. “Why don’t you two get a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. You both look ready to drop. And Delly and I will curly up together here on the chesterfield.”

“I don’t think I can ask that of you,” Bash said simply.

“You didn’t ask,” Anne replied back. Already wedging herself into the corner, against the cushions, the baby curled up against her. “I offered.”

“She’s a stubborn one,” Bash said as way of relenting.

“You have no idea,” Gilbert answered with a raised eyebrow. “I gotta put the horse to pasture.”

After Gilbert had stepped out, Bash moved closer, leaning down to place a kiss against his daughter’s brow. “I promise, baby girl, I’ll learn everything there is to know about daddying and mothering,” he whispered.

To Anne he offered, “Thank you again. I don’t know what we would have done if you hadn’t come. I know...I know Mary would appreciate...would’ve appreciated what you’ve...”

He was unable to continue and Anne reached out, giving his arm a squeeze. “I know Bash. I know. Please, get some sleep. For a few hours you let me take some of your worry.”

The weary man was unable to reply, his emotions all caught in his throat, and with a hasty nod he sped from the room, and Anne felt a little of her mended heart crack anew. She missed her friend, and she felt deeply the loss of this tiny family.

Gilbert entered quietly, pausing as he took in her pinking cheeks and glassy eyes. “You alright?”

Anne nodded quickly, clearing her throat to push away the feelings threatening to spill out. Gilbert looked unconvinced, but felt too exhausted to press further. 

“Are you sure you want to stay out here? You can have my father’s old room.”

“It’s only a few hours,” Anne pointed out. “It isn’t worth the effort.”

He said nothing as he stepped over to a large oak chest, opening it and pulling out a knitted blanket. He draped it over Anne’s tucked legs, ensure the bare toes peaking out from under her nightdress were covered, before saying, “You are Anne. You are worth the effort.”

She could only blink at him, unsure how to respond in the late hours between days, her own thoughts growing sluggish as she settled into the comfort around her. She watched him move about, turning down the kerosene lamps until only a single candle remained. Before he could blow it out, she gave a small, strangled hum of protest, and felt a renewed flood of embarrassment. But Gilbert said nothing, just moved the candle a little closer, so she could choose when and if she wanted to blow it out. 

“Goodnight Anne.”

“Goodnight.”

******

Gilbert had fallen heavily into his bed, barely kicking off his boots before sleep took him. He’d slept hard, but awoke with the feeling he’d been dreaming something quite intense, but he couldn’t remember. He felt like he wanted to remember, but it was no use. Sleep clung to his eyes, leaving them dry and cotton feeling, but as the gray-blue light of day began seeping in, Gilbert remembered Anne.

With blurry eyes, he pulled on his boots and quietly made his way through the house, conscious of every creak beneath his feet, grimacing, convinced each sound serving as a veritable bugle call in the stillness of the morning. Yet, he heard no wailing baby or grumbling Bash. In fact, he found Anne still snuggled up with the baby, eyes closed, as the pair slept on.

He loathed to disturb her, but he knew if he got her home soon there was still enough left of the morning she could get some sleep in her own bed. Not to mention he had serious concerns about Marilla showing up at the door at any minute.

He carefully bent down and managed to work Delly into his own arms, shushing Anne when she started awake. She blinked owlishly at him, but made no argument as Gilbert tucked the baby against his chest, bouncing easily to ensure she slept through the transfer. He disappeared down the hall into Bash’s room, and soon had the baby laid in the cradle by the sleeping man’s bed—father and daughter snoring away, blissfully unaware.

He found Anne already pulling on her boots, her eyes no more awake than his own.

“Would you like me to make some breakfast before I leave?” She whispered.

Gilbert shook his head, wanting to wish away some of the purple beneath her eyes. “You’ve done enough Anne. More than enough. Let me get you home.”

“I can walk,” she said, her voice low and raspy from disuse and doing something funny to Gilbert’s insides.

“I’m taking you,” he said firmly, and pushed passed her before she had a chance to argue.

He was grateful he’d left the saddle and reins on the porch, making it quick work of corralling the horse from the fenced area he’d left him, and getting saddled up. Anne made no effort to help, just stood mutely on the porch in her night dress and shawl and mud boots, probably irritated at his high-handedness and looking more adorable than a person had a right to look after such a long night.

Gilbert shook his head and focused on getting the horse close enough to the porch to allow Anne to climb up the railing and onto the saddle in front of him, her side again pressed into his chest in an attempt to maintain some modesty. The sun was just beginning to break over the horizon as they began their ride back to Green Gables.

This time the pace was decidedly slower, Gilbert allowing the horse to clop along the road easily. They didn’t speak, and he felt Anne begin to sway towards him as the slow rocking of the horse and the growing warmth of the sun lulled them both until she relaxed more fully against him. He breathed in the smell her soap and some of Delly’s milk, and felt an overwhelming sense of peace. A feeling he hadn’t felt since before Mary died. 

“Thank you for all you did Anne,” he said into her hair.

He felt her shrug. “It really wasn’t a lot,” she said lazily, not bother to move from her spot against his chest.

He knew the wave of frustration had more to do with his lack of sleep, but he had to bite his lip to keep from arguing, from insisting she accept his appreciation, to recognize what she meant. Instead he grumbled, “It was, but I should have realized that teething might have been the issue before I dragged you out of your home in the middle of the night.”

“And why didn’t you? Realize it, I mean?” She asked in her forthright manner that sometimes disarmed him. 

“Excuse me?”

She shifted against him, and Gilbert nearly lost the thread of the conversation.

“If you should have realized it, then what stopped you?”

“I don’t know.”

“Yes you do,” she insisted, though her words lacked any sting. There was a sadness to her accusation that struck him somewhere deep.

He was struggling now to focus on it all, everything swirling before him, until a thought came to him quite suddenly, and quite clearly.

“Because I was too afraid of making light of what might be wrong...like with Mary.”

Anne took one of his hands into hers, tucking it tightly against her. “You come get me whenever you need Gilbert Blythe, but you should trust your instincts. There wasn’t anything that was going to save Mary, which is hard to accept, but you were there for her when she needed you and you’d do anything for her family—for your family  
.”

And left it at that. 

They rode in an companionable silence, nearing the gate leading to Green Gables, each lost in thought, until Gilbert remember something Anne had said the night before. He pulled the horse to a stop, prompting Anne to finally sit up and look at him questioningly. 

“Anne,” he began. “Last night, when you were talking about those fathers being cruel and mean...they weren’t cruel to you...were they?”

He knew the answer as soon as he asked. She stiffened some, her eyes drifting away into a world Gilbert was never allowed to enter. He didn’t realize how much he wanted her to answer, to tell him the truth, to share with him that part of her until this moment, until he waited, afraid she would refuse him again, push away all they had gained over the last few months.

He could see her hesitate, a sinking feeling low in his stomach even as her thigh pressed warmly, until she finally said, “Yes, sometimes they were.”

He blinked in surprise, her unexpected candor leaving him momentarily speechless. Then her words sank in and Gilbert didn’t know how to feel. Or perhaps he simply felt too much: anger, frustration, sadness, regret, hope, loss all mixed together into something Gilbert couldn’t name.

Anne pressed her fingers to his lips, silencing any words that may have tried to slip free. Her eyes pleaded with him to say nothing, and he could only grant her request. Her cool fingers fell away and Gilbert leaned forwarded, resting his forehead against hers, eyes closed, the slow in and out of their breathing mixing with the sounds of the waking day, soothing some of the ache they both bore.

“Anne! Gilbert!”

The pair broke apart as Marilla pounded her way down the lane, hat on her head, basket on her arm, and a determined look on her face.

“How’s that dear baby?” She huffed out, working to catch her breath.

“All is well Marilla,” Anne assured her quickly. “She was just having some discomfort with her teeth coming in.”

“Anne was a miracle Miss Marilla,” Gilbert spoke, avoiding the red-head’s eyes, knowing the sour look she was aiming at him. “She had Delphine feeling much better in no time and gave Bash and me a list of things to do when she starts hurting again.

“Well, thank the Lord for that,” Marilla said, wilting some with relief. “I’ve got Matthew hitching up the wagon. I didn’t know if you needed us to come get Anne. I’ll let him know you’ve brought her home to us, then I’ll make my way over. I’ve got a very large basket of food, and I’m sure you boys could use a bit of a woman’s touch around the house and I’m sure an extra pair of hand to help with the baby wouldn’t go amiss. Now Anne, you get on home and get some sleep, you look completely done in. Gilbert, I’ll see you at your home.”

She turned and left a somewhat stunned Gilbert in her wake.

Anne chuckled. “Now you understand.”

“Miss Marilla is a force to be reckoned with, huh?”

“You have no idea.”

Gilbert set the horse to motion, riding up the rest of the lane to Green Gables, coming to a stop just at the Cuthbert’s door. Before he could thank her again, before he could tease her about being sent to bed, before he could tell her all that she meant to him, she leaned into him and pressed a quick kiss to his cheek. Taking advantage of his stunned reaction, she slid down and run into the house.

It was a dazed and silly Gilbert who returned home, accepting a commanding Marilla Cuthbert’s edict that he was to get a bite of breakfast and then head straight to bed. With a goofy grin on his face that Bash suspected had little to do with exhaustion, he thanked Marilla for her kindness before heading to his room, knowing exactly what would occupy his dreams this time.

The end.

Thanks for reading!!!


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